Lord of Misrule: A Laby Christmas Fic
by 3iggy
Summary: Sarah finds that as November ends, visions of goblin men are dancing in her head. Does she have some unresolved issues with her childhood villain? Or is she simply longing for a little misadventure? This will be a soft, cuddly-mulled wine and gingerbread cookies-type of romance. So...let's get ready for the holidays my friends!
1. Lord of Misrule

_If I could have opened my eyes so I could see where I'd land, I would've never fallin' for you._

 _There'd be no tears in my eyes, no beating in my chest, as drop by drop fills the sea_

 _I've been treading water and have poured out my soul, buried the pieces and let you go-Drop by Drop, The Sweeplings_

* * *

An acrid smell lingered in the room several moments after the match was struck. Sarah held the burning splinter of wood against the candle's wick hoping that the flame would catch before she toasted a finger. The sweet smell of burning beeswax was all she needed after a long day spent in the chilly November air.

November was such a cruel month. November choked the last vestiges of life out of the crumbling leaves and sent his army of frost to vanquish the lingering flora. Maybe November thought that he was being kind, putting creation out its own misery before the everlasting cold of December.

Sarah thought about November as she set the tea kettle on the stove top and pulled a mug from the cabinet. If November were a person he'd be tall and sly bedecked in oranges and browns. He'd carry a sword and wear a green cloak. She thought with a smile. "A cruel autumn king." She mused aloud while whipping out a sketchbook and pulling a pencil from a jar on the counter. The sharp squeal of the kettle brought her back to the world only after she'd doodled the mischievous face of her November man, he disturbingly resembled a rather tall goblin.

She hadn't seen a goblin in a long while. At least, not a live one. Her own recreations of goblins she'd encountered were littered about the house and scribbled on the sides of notes and scraps of paper. Some were fierce, others friendly, but they all lived in her memory. Here and there a Goblin king with flashing eyes would crop up among her penciled scratchings, but she usually hid those.

"You know, Morgana," she said to the white cat on her counter, "I feel like that story wasn't quite finished. That's what distresses me about the Goblin King. Heroes are supposed to win, heroes get the happy ever after. Is this my happy ever after?" She looked to the feline for answers.

Morgana blinked twice and licked her paw.

Sarah nodded as if in agreement with her furry friend. "I feel like I lost something." It was a sentiment that she'd expressed more than once. "I don't regret what I did, Morgana. I did what was right. But, there's no closure. It's so confusing." November was cruel indeed. It always reminded her of him.

Sarah sprang from her seat, nearly overturning her tea, which was cooling quickly. A wicked gleam glinted in her green eyes as she grabbed a red scarf from the back of her chair. Morgana gifted her with an annoyed expression as she tied the scarf on her neck with an abrupt jerk.

"I should go out into the dark of night, Morgana and call his name to the four corners of the earth. Demand that he...that he...well I am not entirely certain what I should demand." The wildness faded from her voice, the gleam dimmed in her troubled eyes.

"What does a woman grown demand from a king of goblins? Peace of mind? A quiet soul? Do I wish that he would erase the image I carry of his haphazard eyes? Or the way his voice drifts in and out of my dreams as I sleep at night?" Her expression was deep and dramatic. A heavy sigh fell like a stone from her lips as she walked gracefully through the living room. A lively fire danced merrily in the fireplace.

Sarah's soliloquy carried her out of the warm room and away from the disinterested cat. She found herself standing on the wrap-around porch staring into the clear crisp night sky. The stars were only sharp pinpricks of light waltzing above her.

She was brave but she never dared to speak or even think his name. Yet, with each year that slipped through her fingers, she felt the pull of it. The syllables skipped on the tip of her tongue. It grew stronger with every beat of her heart. Sarah Williams was not in love with the goblin king, but her eyes searched for his bitter grin and her ears listened for his mocking voice.

Tonight was as good a night as any.

"Goblin king, goblin king, wherever you may. Come here...come here to me." She whispered the words into the night's chill. They twisted among the pines and got tangled in the frost tinged wind. Those words were faint scattered fragments when they found the Goblin King.


	2. Green Grows the Holly

Hey folks. I am so sorry this is so short. I hurt my hand at work and have been unable to type properly! I will survive, the show will go on, but I may be a bit slow...sigh. Anyway, enjoy. The poem is Yates, per usual.

* * *

Green grows the holly  
And so does the ivy  
Though winter blasts winds na'er so high -Calexico

* * *

A burst of wind came barreling around the corner of the little cottage. Sarah could hardly catch her breath as the cold ripped through her, tugging the scarf from her neck. The red streamer fluttered out into the night violently.

"Sheesh." She pushed the heavy curling mass of her hair back over her shoulders. The scarf was gone as was the sudden wind. All was quiet around her once more.

"Silly nitwit." Sarah said to herself as she turned to retreat back indoors. It only took her a moment to realize that all the lights were out in the house.

"Curiouser and curiouser!" Sarah stepped lightly toward the door. Firelight from the hearth flickered eerily along the walls as she pulled the door open gingerly. Clove and the crisp scent of evergreens filled the air.

Cautiously, Sarah moved toward the flames, her moccasined feet barely making a sound. Morgana rested on the warm flagstones, her heavily lidded eyes reflected the light. The smell of pine needles increased as she stepped further into the room. Hair stood up on her arms and the back of her neck as her pulse quickened suddenly. Sarah jumped, turning to look over her shoulder back toward the door. All was quiet.

"Bolt and bar the shutter,  
For the foul winds blow:  
Our minds are at their best this night,  
And I seem to know  
That everything outside us is  
Mad as the mist and snow."

Sarah muttered the poem aloud, listening to her own voice echo through the cottage. With a sight she skipped over to the light switch and gave it a violent flip. There was a flicker, but nothing more. Once more the fresh scent of evergreens assulted her, but this time there was the tiniest hint of cinnamon.

"I'm not crazy," she insisted taking a deep breath, tasting the spicy scents. Goosebumps ran up her arms as the wild wind picked back up outside the windows. The trees waved their frost heavy branches in the fickle moonlight.

The raven haired woman looked slowly over her shoulder, her neck twisting elegantly. Her warm green eyes locked instantly with a pair of cool blue ones.

"You smell just like Christmas." Her voice was barely a whisper.


	3. Green Grows the Holly Part 2

Sorry this chapter is in two parts. I coaxed my injuried left pinky into a little more work. By the way H.G., I know it is Yeats...but I cannot seem to stop turning it into Yates...there is something mightly wrong with me I'm afraid.

* * *

The Goblin King stood, head canted, eyes laughing, but he said nothing. As always the monarch was dressed artfully. Olives and greys lent credence to his evergreen scent, the silvery hair spoke of light layers of crystal frost. A flash of red drew her attention to his graceful hands. They were the types of hands that a magician could envy. Long slender fingers sprouted from an unblemished palm. Sarah knew from experience that those hands could perform wonders as well as threats. She simply didn't know what to expect at the moment.

"That's my scarf." She said, eyes not wandering from the red garment.

"Is it? I snatched it from the East Wind. Would you like it back?" He extended the scarf to Sarah.

The woman nearly reached for it, but she was halted mid-grab by the flash of canine teeth.

"I'm not sure. What will it cost me?" She edged away from the grinning king, putting a few more comfortable feet of distance between them. She was starting to understand how summoning the king was not entirely a sane plan. What did she really hope to gain by this encounter?

As if reading her thoughts viciously merry sparks flashed in his eyes.

"What ever is the matter, Sarah?" His cultured voice was mocking. "Were you not expecting me? I am many things but inattentive is not one of them." His walk was that of an expectant predator as he clasped his gloved hands behind his back. Sarah had not noticed that the scarf was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh dear," he stopped turning his sympathetic face in her direction. "You didn't actually believe that I would hear you, that I would come." There was no mistaking the joy in his voice. It was a cruel thing.

Sarah found that her voice had dried up. The longer she stared at him, the more real he became. Pine and cinnamon still registered on the still air of the cottage. He was too solid, too alive standing under the wooden beams, the firelight caressing the sharp edges of his face. His presence was overpowering, he wa suddenly the only thing in the room that didn't seem out of place. The throw pillows and plaid blanket were ridiculous as was all the furniture. What were planks of wood and stuffed materials to a living breathing Goblin King. Did anything she have matter at all?

Fear-for the first time in years-she was afraid.

Briefly she wondered if he were like an animal, could he smell her fear? Taking a few deep breathes she tried to settle her nerves. He was watching her, enjoying her discomposure. The Goblin King knew he had the upperhand in this meeting, just as he had during their first. Sarah needed to level the playing field.

"Of course, I didn't think that you would come." Her voice shook only a little.

"Why not? Haven't I always done what you've asked of me? Am I not your slave?" His smile was so wicked that it infected his voice. "Do you not fear me, love me?"

Sarah nearly giggled with hysteria. She could handle this. He was the same mischievous Goblin King, she was the one who had changed. She didn't fear him, she feared herself.

"You're unbelievable." She shook her head. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

It was the Goblin King's turn to be caught off guard.


	4. Mistletoe

Sitting under the mistletoe  
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),  
One last candle burning low,  
All the sleepy dancers gone,  
Just one candle burning on,  
Shadows lurking everywhere:  
Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go  
Nodding under the mistletoe  
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),  
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,  
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,  
Stooped in the still and shadowy air  
Lips unseen - and kissed me there.-Walter de la Mare

* * *

"Tell me, why does this tea taste so strongly of mint?" The Goblin King made a nasty face at the steaming cup.

"It's peppermint tea." Sarah shrugged. The woman stood in the corner of the kitchen watching her royal guest. He didn't notice her scrutiny, or he didn't mind it perhaps.

"How awful," was Jareth's droll response. With a grace born of disdain the king set the cup aside and slouched in the tiny wooden chair. Funny, it had never seemed tiny before, Sarah thought. The king did not look at her, but his gloved fingers came up to rest against his lips as he glared down at the gay little tea cup. Perhaps he took personal offense to the beverage.

"Do goblins not like mint?" She asked cautiously.

"How ever should I know?" His ice chipped eyes flashed to meet hers."Do you think that I am a goblin?" Now she knew she'd offended his grace.

"I umm, well. I suppose that I've never thought about it." She surely hoped not. A change of subject would be good, Sarah decided.

"Do you know the story about the Princess and the Goblin?" Sarah asked jumping to the first topic that surfaced in her mind.

An eyebrow shot skyward.

"Well, this princess, um well she lives in a castle and she isn't' allowed out after dark because the goblins come out...she has an invisible string that her dead grandmother gave her...the goblin prince was going to force her to marry him, but she stepped on their feet."

"That's a terrible story." Sarah heard his voice fade, she felt the shift in the air as he winked out of existence. Had she had the time, she would've looked around to see if he appeared elsewhere, but the sudden darkening of the air above her, the instinctive desire to hug herself even closer to the countertop, bespoke the new position of the goblin king.

Jareth towered over her, head tilted, arms locking her into place in her little corner. The countertop was eating into her back as his scent washed over her, clean and crisp. He was all around her, but nowhere did his body make contact with hers.

"Sarah, did you summon me here to listen to absurd stories and drink subpar refreshments?" Humor hummed across his words.

Why had she brought him here? Why now? What was she supposed to say?

"I couldn't help it." She replied, shocking herself.

"Oh." A wolfish grin settled on his mouth. "I didn't realize that was an acceptable excuse."

Tension tightened Sarah's stomach. Her round eyes sought the warning in his. She steeled herself. Her breath caught as she suffered through the long seconds that it took for his body to inch ever closer to hers. His lips hovered over her own.

"Would you care to play a little game with me, Sarah?" He whispered, she could smell the peppermint from the tea he had been sipping.

All rational thought deserted her. She didn't know for sure what she wanted from him. But, she could not pass up the chance to find out what it was.

"Yes."

* * *

Again, my posts may be short for a bit. I just want to keep posting something, it is good rehabilitation for my poor injuried pinky. Forgive typos for the time being please (pinky problems).

By the way, in case you are interested, I am currently obsessed with Ryan Adams' cover of 1989. That's what I am writing to...not very Christmasy is it?


	5. A Holly Jolly Goblin Christmas

I really have no idea where I was going with this story, but I felt like it needed an ending. So I wrote the must sappy, mushy, sugary, ending I could stomach. Merry Christmas.

* * *

A Leaf From The Tree of Songs

By Adam Christianson

When harpers once in wooden hall  
A shining chord would strike  
Their songs like arrows pierced the soul  
Of great and low alike

Aglow by hearth and candleflame  
From burning branch to ember  
The mist of all their music sang  
As if to ask in wonder

Is there a moment quite as keen  
Or memory as bright  
As light and fire and music (sweet)  
To warm the winter's night?

* * *

Sarah felt the world come undone around her. It was a subtle thing really—just the slightest sense of vertigo and then, in the blink of an eye—she found herself bathed in the red-orange glow of an otherworldly sun. A smile formed on her lips before she could stop it.

Jareth stood by her side his canny eyes watching her. But, Sarah had attention for the Labyrinth alone. It was covered in snow. Every tree and all the little goblin houses were wrapped up tight in multicolored lights. The castle itself was wreathed in holly and the yellow light of candles flickered in every window of the ruin.

"What is this?" Sarah asked the Goblin King.

"It's part of the game," Jareth smiled.

"How?" Sarah could hardly contain herself. She was aching to get lost in the maze of festive wonder. It was like a bizarre rendition of a holiday village. It was perfect.

"I thought we might play pretend," Jareth stepped in front of her. "We can make believe that we know one another. Stroll along the walks, point out the pretty lights, and possibly engage in a little…snow ball duel or snow angel making?"

"And then?" Sarah felt her heart begin to skip a few beats—awe of the labyrinth being replaced by awe of its master.

"I believe hot chocolate is customary," Jareth replied with a thoughtful expression. "We can sing a carol or two? More if we spike said hot chocolate."

"But, I can't sing," Sarah smiled.

"Oh, but I can," Jareth pulled her red scarf out of thin air and looped it around her neck before grasping her wrist in his gloved hand. "You can't back out now. You already said you'd play." He said with a frown when she hesitated ever so slightly.

The stars were beginning to show themselves in the indigo sky as it darkened into twilight and the Christmas lights cast their multicolored gleam across the snow, across the Goblin King, and her heart hurt with the whimsy of it all.

"May we build a snowman?" Sarah grinned, a mischievous gleam twinkling in her own eyes.

"Will a snow goblin be acceptable?" Jareth asked as he pulled her laughing into the winter wonderland.


End file.
